by Katie Reus
Cade rolled his hips, his hard length rubbing against her abdomen as she slid against the tile. As she ran her hands up over his head, gliding her fingers over his wet skull trim, he froze.
Oh no. He wasn’t stopping. She’d kill him. “What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head back, his expression tight, his eyes filled with too many emotions to translate. “Condom.”
She blinked as the word pushed through the lust-filled haze of her mind. God, where was her head? She nodded. Yes, they would use one. If it meant leaving the shower, fine. But she wanted to come back here later.
“Don’t have one.” The way he barely pushed the words out told her how close he was to losing that thin thread of control he was grasping.
“I’m on the pill and I was tested at my last visit, and it’s been . . . a while for me.” She had irregular periods and the pill was the only thing that kept her hormones in balance. She didn’t want to put any pressure on him or be stupid, but if he was clean too . . .
The tendons in his neck pulled tight as he spoke. “I’m tested every six months for the job and I’m clean. But we can stop. Hell, we can—”
She covered his mouth with hers. Cade wasn’t a liar. She trusted him more than she’d trusted any man she’d ever dated. If he said he was clean, he was. And it touched her that he hadn’t even questioned her either.
Her tongue stroked against his as she enjoyed his taste and teasing. Those playful strokes quickly turned heated, though, as he reached between their bodies.
He cupped her mound in a purely possessive hold, running a long finger against her slit. “You’re so wet,” he murmured as he pulled back, feathering kisses along her jawline. He was slowing the pace and she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.
Her inner walls clenched to be filled and he wanted to slow down? When he slid a finger inside her, she arched against him again, her entire body pulling tight.
“I want more than your finger.”
“What exactly do you want?” He slid another finger inside her as he nipped that sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met.
She trembled at the action. “You.”
“Tell me,” he whispered, the words a low demand.
She felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t holding anything back. Not now. “I want your cock inside me.”
He made a rough sound of approval and pulled his hand away. Her lower abdomen tightened in anticipation as he grabbed her hips and thrust into her.
Closing her eyes, she clutched onto his shoulders as he filled her. Her inner walls stretched and molded around him until all she was aware of was Cade.
He remained still, buried deep inside her, his breathing as ragged as hers. Then he raised his head and started slowly moving.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with that intense green gaze. He was so hard to read sometimes, but now she could see all the hunger and desire burning right at the surface.
Reaching between them, he slowly rubbed her clit as he increased his thrusts. She held on to his shoulders as that normally elusive release was already pressing at her, insistent and ready to be set free. It was as if he knew her body better than she did. She responded to him in a way she never had with anyone else.
As he increased the pressure against her sensitive bundle of nerves, he also increased his rhythm inside her. His thrusts became harder and more unsteady until finally her climax slammed into her. It was so unexpected she let out a sharp cry, his name ragged on her lips.
It moved through her body like ripples across a lake, each one getting wider and wider, pushing out to all her nerve endings. She buried her face against his neck, crying out his name as the pleasure continued to overtake her.
As her orgasm ebbed, the sensation turning into tiny tendrils that brushed against her oversensitive body, he let out a loud groan. His drove into her over and over, her name a moan on his lips as he emptied himself inside her.
He still didn’t move but held her up against the wall, his breathing slowly steadying against her neck as they both got their breath back.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed, and she didn’t really care. Even with all the horror going on around them, she’d felt impossibly safe, and yes, cherished, in Cade’s arms. It was a strange sensation, but one she embraced. Eventually he stepped back and she let her legs unwrap from around him. They felt rubbery and she faltered as her feet touched the slick floor.
But he held on to her, guiding her directly under the still-pulsing showerhead. Closing her eyes, she let him maneuver her until she was turned around, her back pressed against his chest. The water rushed over her, completely soaking her hair and body.
When she heard a soft snicking sound, then felt his hands gently massaging her scalp, she realized he was washing her hair. In that instant it hit her how much she’d fallen for Cade. Again. So hard and far, there was no way she could walk away from him. She didn’t want to. The problem was, she had no idea if he felt the same. After what had happened between them before, she had her doubts. Even if he hurt her, she wasn’t going to walk away before they had a chance to see if things could work between them.
• • •
Date: December 26, 2006
To: Maria Cervantes
From: Cade O’Reilly
Subject: re: holidays
I’m glad you said no to that guy, and for full disclosure, I’ve written and deleted the same type of e-mail about a hundred times. I look forward to your e-mails more than a “friend” should and I want more than friendship. Asking you to wait for me, though, seems fucked up. I have no clue what I’m going to do when my time to reenlist comes up. More and more I’m thinking about getting out, but I don’t know at this point. Even though it is selfish . . . I don’t want you to see anyone and I’m definitely not interested in anyone else. Haven’t been from the moment I met you.
Cade
Chapter 17
Grenade launcher: a weapon that launches a grenade with more accuracy, higher velocity, and to greater distances than an individual could throw it by hand.
Cade pulled Maria’s back tight to his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. She snuggled tighter against him, wiggling her ass over his growing erection. Pulling her even tighter to him, he kissed her neck, savoring the soft appreciative sounds she made. He should be sated. But that seemed an impossible feat around her.
After their shower they’d dried off, changed, and grabbed some food downstairs and then she’d jumped him again. Not that he minded. He’d wanted her again pretty much from the moment they’d left the shower, but she’d been through a hell of a lot and he wasn’t sure how much she could take tonight—this morning. God, it was already two a.m. How had that happened?
She wiggled against him and laughed under her breath when he let out a low growl and nipped her shoulder. “Don’t tempt me,” he murmured.
“I was just seeing if it was possible that you were already hard again.” Her voice was raspy, probably because she was exhausted. And he wouldn’t be responsible for keeping her up any longer. She’d been through so much already; her body needed time to rest. Even if she didn’t care, he did.
“You’re naked and in my arms—what do you expect?” He could definitely go another round, but he also liked simply holding her. The stillness inside him was unexpected. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he just felt at peace. Which was insane, considering the job he was working. It had nothing to do with their being at a safe house either. His mind was working overtime, as always, but something deep inside him was just . . . calm. All because of the woman in his arms.
Which shouldn’t surprise him. He’d felt that searing calm eight years ago when talking, e-mailing, or writing long handwritten letters to her. He’d let his guard down with her in a way he hadn’t with any other woman. Then he’d fucked eve
rything up.
She let out a soft sigh but didn’t make a move to turn around. That alone told him that she was too tired for more. She tightened her arm over his, linking her fingers through his, and despite how he felt holding her, a knot formed in his chest.
Guilt.
It never went away. No matter how much he tried to box it up or pretend it didn’t exist, the truth was, it was his fault Maria’s brother was dead. He’d wanted to tell her before she went down on him in the shower, anything to stop what he knew what was about to happen. But once her lips had wrapped around him, there had been no turning back and he’d been completely lost to her.
He was also a little selfish. Fuck yeah, he could admit it. He wanted Maria, just for as long as she’d keep him. She was too good for him, and once he finally confessed the truth, she’d probably hate him, which was no less than he deserved. Part of him wanted to see that hatred and anger in her gaze, to have it directed at him because he deserved it. He deserved to pay penance for what he’d done. But for now, she was his. He’d been sacrificing for his country in one way or another since he was eighteen, and right now he just wanted to hold on to some happiness for himself.
Even in shitty circumstances, lying here with Maria made him happy. A weird fucking concept.
“Do they have any news on the terrorists? Did what I told you at Dr. York’s help?” She asked one question after the other, the tiredness in her voice evident, even though her mind wouldn’t let her sleep just yet.
He knew she was fighting sleep, but if she wanted to know, he’d tell her anything that wasn’t classified. “No news on the bastards. They ditched their first boat, and switched at least once, but probably a couple times after that first ditch. It’s like they just disappeared.” Even though he was angry about it, he didn’t regret leaving the scene to take care of Maria. There was nothing he could have done there that another teammate couldn’t.
“I thought you guys used satellites and stuff,” she said sleepily, her fingers loosening around his hand.
He paused for a moment, weighing what he could say without wading into a gray area. “We do, but our options failed.” It had been a giant cluster fuck of failures. Some days it didn’t matter how much technology they had at their fingertips; some events were just unavoidable.
The FBI helicopter designated for the mission had been parked on the Opulen’s private helicopter pad, and one of the rotors got clipped by falling debris from the explosion. They’d had backups about a mile away, but the Donzi had been too damn fast. The satellite the NSA had originally wanted to use hadn’t been in reliable working condition, and with the last-minute operation, there was no way that could have changed.
However, the aerial drone the NSA had utilized had been able to follow them to another marina. A much bigger one that took up almost two miles of space. The NSA had lost a visual of the men, then never got them back. With the number of boats going in and out of the other marina, it had been impossible to even attempt to track one of them. They’d tried, but with the drone and the two helicopters, it was three eyes in the sky trying to narrow down one vessel out of hundreds.
A needle in a stack of needles.
But he didn’t tell Maria all that, because she didn’t need more to worry about.
“What about the port I mentioned? Do you think it’s the Port of Miami?”
“It’s possible.” Anything was possible at this point. They needed to narrow down the motivation of the terrorists more than anything. Doing that would hopefully give them answers about future targets. Because this wasn’t about religion or money. According to Burkhart, the pictures left at Scott Mullen’s house were sick but telling. A bunch of naked women kept in cages and other horrific images he didn’t even want to think about—not a good thing.
From the file the NSA had started on Mihails Balodis and Oto Ozols, they knew both their parents were dead and that Oto didn’t have any other living relatives. Mihails, however, had two sisters. Unfortunately there was no information on either of them. It was as if they’d completely fallen off the grid years ago after getting work visas for the U.S. It wasn’t a stretch to think this had something to do with one of them. Not with those fucking pictures left behind.
“I swear I can hear the wheels in your head turning.” Maria’s voice was soft, soothing, and fading fast.
He chuckled lightly. “Sorry.” Cade closed his eyes, trying to shut off his thoughts and get some sleep. He needed to be sharp for Maria and for himself. For all he knew he’d be called in by Burkhart in a few hours. His boss might have given him a short reprieve, but he knew the other man well enough that if he wanted to pull Cade from a job, he’d do it. Cade intended to soak up every moment of this time alone with Maria.
She squeezed his hand lightly, and a few seconds later, her breathing completely evened out. The soft rhythm told him she’d finally fallen asleep. Only then did he allow himself to fade too. The alarm on the house was secure and he had enough weapons to hold off a small army until backup arrived.
• • •
Wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt and black pants, he opened the back passenger door of the car he’d stolen and slipped out. He’d disabled the dome light so he didn’t give himself away to anyone who might be awake and looking out their window. He doubted anyone would be up at this time, but he was always careful. And since he was carrying a bulky weapon he couldn’t hide anywhere on his person, he really couldn’t afford to be seen.
The tracker he’d placed in Maria’s purse had remained at the same residential address for the past six hours, but he’d been waiting for the right time to strike. Women took their purses with them everywhere and they typically left them in their bedrooms or kitchens at the end of the day. While it had been tricky, it had been easier slipping the tracker into her purse than placing it on her person.
The quiet hours before dawn were always the best time to conduct any type of infiltration. Standard operating procedure was to attack an enemy when his guard would be down. His time in the Army had taught him that. It had also taught him a lot more. Though he’d hated every second of it, the time he’d spent in had paid for his college. Which was the only reason he’d joined. It had all been part of his plan to become who he was now.
Unlike Maria’s family and so many of Miami’s elite, he didn’t come from money. He had to work for what he had, and very soon he’d be taking a well-deserved payday. He just needed Maria out of the way first.
There was no way in hell she’d ever consider selling the community center, and he wanted that property. Wanted what it could give him.
It was kismet that the bitch had placed herself in Mihails’s line of fire. That man was terrifying in a way he didn’t want to even think about.
He dismissed those thoughts and hurried down the sidewalk, careful to stick to the shadows of the quiet street. With no innocent reason to be in this neighborhood at this hour—and carrying such an obvious weapon—he had to be careful. The area was middle-class, and any concerned citizens would absolutely call the police if they spotted him.
He’d parked the next street over from the address but had done reconnaissance earlier. There hadn’t been any cars in the driveway, but he’d seen an SUV in the garage when he looked through a side window. Getting close enough to the house had been nerve-racking, but he hadn’t had a choice. Not when he’d told Mihails he would take care of Maria. Some days he regretted getting in bed with Mihails, but it was done and he couldn’t complain too much when he’d been nicely compensated. If it wasn’t for his ability to occasionally and discreetly run guns, or more important, smuggle in high-powered, illegal weapons, their paths would never have crossed.
Mihails was an extremist. Not a religious nut, because he wouldn’t do business with people like that. No, he had standards. But Mihails was an extremist nonetheless and would die for what he believed in. People like that made him nervous because
they could be unpredictable. He preferred people who valued money above all. It was much easier to calculate their moves and speak to their motivation.
Nearing the corner to the street Maria was on, he slowed his pace when he reached the four-way stop sign. It had a slight reflection under the streetlight and half-moon. He peered down her street, his heart beating an erratic thump against his ribs as he scanned the street for any vehicles he hadn’t seen earlier.
There didn’t appear to be any, but he ducked across the street just the same. He wouldn’t approach from the front, so when he got to the other side, he kept walking and only stopped when he reached the next street over. Making his way down yet another quiet street lined with palm and oak trees, he hurried through the yard positioned directly behind the house Maria was in.
He stayed as close to the fence as possible, hoping he wouldn’t trip any floodlights. He only allowed himself a small sigh of relief after he’d scaled the fence into her backyard.
It was sparse, with no patio furniture in the small tiled back area. There wasn’t even a grill. Nothing. Only a single oak tree in the corner of the yard, its leaves completely still in the almost preternatural quiet.
He hated how damn quiet the evening was, but this was when he had to strike. Since he knew she would have a guard and the place had a security system, his attack would be swift, brutal, and very violent.
It was the only way.
Escaping would be a pain in the ass, but he wouldn’t be leaving the way he’d come. No, he had another vehicle waiting and a carefully planned exit. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a black mask and tugged it over his face. Once it was secure, he picked his weapon back up and hurried across the backyard.
Positioning himself directly below the bedroom where her beacon had been immobile since she’d settled in at the residence, he lifted his grenade launcher onto his shoulder and aimed.
